


I Just Need to Hear Your Voice

by alanna_the_lionheart



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s06e01 Fallout, F/M, Fluff, Hope, Light Angst, Love, Nightmares, One Shot, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance, Sappy, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, olicity - Freeform, spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanna_the_lionheart/pseuds/alanna_the_lionheart
Summary: Coda to 6x01 (takes place at some point in the near future). In an attempt to slowly rebuild their relationship without complicating William’s life, Oliver and Felicity get in the habit of calling each other every night. Sometimes they watch TV together. Sometimes they discuss Team Arrow business. Most nights they just talk about their days. But then sometimes the nightmares come...and all they really want is to hear the other’s voice. This is one of those nights.





	I Just Need to Hear Your Voice

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by my wish for how the premiere would end - which was a bit different from this and obviously didn’t come true - and a few discussions on Twitter about how Oliver and Felicity spend their nightly phone calls.

**_I Just Need to Hear Your Voice_ **

 

Oliver’s breath comes out in short gasps, and his feet pound hard against the earth as he runs. 

 

John and Felicity.

 

They should have been with the others. They should have been safe: shielded from the blasts and the heat by the hard, strong metal of the plane’s body.

 

Instead they were left behind.

 

Quentin swore they’d been right behind him, but when he’d reached the plane, they were nowhere to be found.

 

Oliver runs faster, fearing the worst. His heart pounds in his chest to the beat of his prayers.

 

_ Please let them be okay, please let them be okay. _

 

His muscles burn from exertion, but he doesn’t stop.

 

How much farther is it? He thought they’d been right by the plane when Felicity last talked to him.

 

He pushes himself faster.

 

Oliver runs….

 

And runs….

 

He keeps running….

 

Until he finally sees them….

 

…and he stops dead in his tracks.

 

John looks up at him from where he sits on the ground, cradling Felicity’s still form in his lap.

 

“No,” Oliver whispers, shaking his head in denial. “No, no, no.”

 

But there are tear tracks running down John Diggle’s cheeks.

 

His brother shakes his head. 

 

“Oliver,” he whispers, and his voice trembles so badly he can barely get the word out.

 

The sound of his name finally gets his feet to move, and Oliver closes the distance between them and collapses to his knees at John’s side.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver pleads, and he drops his bow to the ground and reaches out to her with both hands. “Felicity, please,” he begs her.

 

John shakes his head again. “Oliver, she-”

 

“No,” Oliver gasps. “No, she can’t be. She...she has to be okay.”

 

A quiet sob escapes his best friend, and Oliver would swear he can feel his heart literally breaking in his chest. 

 

_ “Felicity," _  Oliver whimpers.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Oliver reaches out to her.

 

Finally, he cups her face between his hands.

 

Even through the leather of his gloves, he can tell that her skin is cold.

 

_ “Oh,” _ he moans.  _ “Oh, g-...oh, god.” _

 

John shifts in front of him, lifting Felicity out of his lap, and Oliver’s barely aware of taking her from him. One moment her face is in his hands, and the next she’s in his arms.

 

He adjusts her body against him, resting her head over his heart.

 

It’s her favorite place to be.

 

No…it  _ was. _

 

Because Felicity is….

 

“NO!” Oliver shouts, and he shakes her gently, as if that will be enough to bring her back to him. “No, no, no, please. Please, Felicity, please.  _ Oh, god.” _

 

Oliver buries his face against the top of her head, breathing in her scent. She smells of fire and ash and just the barest hint of her strawberry shampoo.

 

A sob escapes him, and he lets the tears come, falling freely into her hair.

 

“ _ Felicity _ ,” he moans, and he’s trembling hard as he pulls her closer to him; as close as he can, molding her body to his.

 

She’s limp and cold.

 

A shiver runs through him, and he grips one of her hands in his, squeezing it tightly….

 

…and she doesn’t squeeze back.

 

… 

……

… 

 

Oliver’s not sure how long he sits on the cold hard ground and cries.

 

At some point, John leaves him alone with his grief.

 

At some point, the sky open up and it starts to rain.

 

At some point, he throws his head back and screams.

 

Rain mixes with the tears on his cheeks, and Oliver bends over and kisses Felicity’s forehead.

 

“ _ Please come back to me _ ,” he whimpers against her skin.

 

…

……

…

 

She doesn’t answer him.

 

…

……

… 

 

The rain falls harder….

 

The sky grows darker….

 

…and Oliver holds onto the lifeless body of the woman he loves and cries.

 

* * *

 

“FELICITY!” Oliver screams, and his body jerks wildly as he wakes up.

 

Oliver pants heavily, and he reaches out for the nearest object he can find, which happens to be his pillow. He grips it tightly in his fists as he takes in his surroundings.

 

His new bed.

 

In his new bedroom.

 

In his new apartment. 

 

Oliver closes his eyes, then presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying desperately to wipe away the horrible images left by the nightmare. A few tears leak from his eyes, and a quiet sob escapes him as he shakes his head.

 

It’s okay.

 

Everything’s fine.

 

Felicity’s not dead.

 

Five months ago, he found her bruised and bleeding but blissfully alive.

 

Oliver opens his eyes again and sits up in bed. The blankets are tangled around his legs; he must have been thrashing in his sleep. He extricates himself from the covers and scoots up the mattress, leaning back against the headboard.

 

He takes a long, deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

 

He takes another...and then another.

 

He takes long, deep breaths until he feel his breathing and heartrate return to normal.

 

When he finally feels the rising panic subside, he wraps his arms around his bare chest, glancing over at the clock on the bedside table.

 

He knows it’s probably too late.

 

And yet….

 

…he just needs to hear her voice.

 

* * *

 

“Oliver? What time is it?” 

 

Oliver can’t help himself. 

 

He smiles.

 

Because the sound of Felicity’s voice - though it’s groggy and deep and raspy from sleep - calms him in a way that nothing else can.

 

“Two-thirty. I’m sorry I woke you up. I just….”

 

He pauses, not sure how to tell her what’s going through his mind.

 

Luckily for him, she knows him better than anyone.

 

“A nightmare?” she asks, and Oliver nods before remembering that she can’t see him.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

 

Felicity sighs into the phone, and he can hear the rustling of sheets as she sits up in bed.

 

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I understand.”

 

And he knows she does.

 

Because this isn’t the first time he’s called her like this. She’s called him for the same reason on more than one occasion since they came back to Star City five months ago.

 

But he says it anyway, because he wants to be more honest with her.

 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he whispers.

 

He can picture her soft smile in his mind, and it comforts him.

 

“I know,” she whispers back.

 

They fall into silence after that, but it’s not weird or uncomfortable, because they’ve done this a lot, too, since they came home.

 

Sometimes all either of them needs is to hear the other breathing quietly.

 

To know that they’re both alive.

 

To know that they still have hope for a future.

 

Eventually, Felicity sighs into the phone.

 

“So... _ I Love Lucy _ ?” she asks, and Oliver smiles.

 

“Definitely.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, you picked a great time to call me,” Felicity says a few minutes later. “This is one of the best episodes.”

 

Oliver laughs, settling back against his couch as he covers his legs with a blanket and turns the volume up on the TV; loud enough that he can hear it but not loud enough to wake his son, who’s sleeping soundly in the room behind him.

 

“I don’t remember it,” Oliver says, switching the phone to his other hand. Despite the usual length of their frequent phone calls, Oliver hates putting his phone on speaker. He’d much rather hear her voice in his ear: the way he’s used to hearing it when he’s out in the field. “Is this the one where she does the commercial?” 

 

“No, silly, this is the one with the conveyor belt.”

 

“Right,” Oliver chuckles, marveling at her amazing ability to remember anything and everything. “How could I forget?”

 

“You’re getting forgetful in your old age?” she suggests, and when she laughs lightly Oliver’s heart flutters in his chest.

 

God, he’s missed this.

 

“I’m 32, Felicity. I would hardly call that ‘old.’”

 

“Oh, please, Oliver. That’s ancient,” Felicity teases, and Oliver shakes his head.

 

“You’re only five years younger than me, Felicity. If I’m old then so are you.”

 

“Hmm, nope, doesn’t work that way. Sorry.”

 

“Oh, really? And why is that?” Oliver asks, trying to sound put out but failing miserably because, as usual, she’s too damn adorable.

 

“Because I said so, and I’m always right.”

 

Oliver starts to laugh, softly at first and then harder when he realizes that she can’t hide her own giggling.

 

He’ll never get tired of hearing her laugh; not ever.

 

“You got me there,” Oliver finally admits.

 

“Damn right I do,” Felicity says. “Now, hush. This is my favorite part.”

 

Oliver shakes his head.

 

God, he loves her so much.

 

A familiar, comforting warmth spreads through him as he makes himself more comfortable against the arm of the couch, pulling his legs up underneath him and wrapping the blanket tighter around his body.

 

And despite the miles that separate them, they settle in together.

 

* * *

 

They watch the end of one episode of  _ I Love Lucy, _ and Felicity keeps a running commentary through the commercials before the next one. She always enjoys making fun of the late night infomercials, and Oliver likes to tease her by trying to convince her that all of the  _ As Seen On TV _ products are actually really useful.

 

“Oliver, why would someone spend money on something that can crack an egg when a pair of  _ hands _ works just as well?”

 

“This coming from someone who still can’t crack an egg without getting eggshell in the bowl?” Oliver teases.

 

“...Fair enough,” she laments

 

Eventually, another episode of  _ I Love Lucy  _ starts, and Felicity squeals over the phone.

 

“Ohhh, this one’s a classic!” she exclaims. 

 

Oliver smiles, and while he does wish he could actually see the look on her face, hearing her voice is enough.

 

They watch the rerun together.

 

Sometimes one of them will laugh, or make a joke, or comment on something, but for the most part they watch in silence.

 

Together.

 

About halfway into a third episode, Oliver feels his eyelids growing heavy. He blinks tiredly as he shifts on the couch, moving around until he’s lying down on his side.

 

He hasn’t heard her say anything in awhile.

 

“Felicity?” he asks into the phone. 

 

He doesn’t get an answer, so he turns down the volume on the television and tries again.

 

“Felicity?”

 

A soft snore answers him back, and Oliver smiles.

 

She’s fast asleep.

 

Oliver pulls the phone away, and he’s about to end the call when he thinks better of it. He puts the phone back to his ear and listens to her breathe: in and out, slow and steady, with a quiet snore thrown in here and there. 

 

Oliver pulls the blanket up over his shoulders and sighs with contentment.

 

The sound of her soft, gentle breathing is soothing to his ears, and he decides he’s not ready to hang up.

 

Not yet.

 

Instead he whispers a few words into the phone.

 

“I wish you were here with me, Felicity.”

 

He knows she can’t hear him, but that’s alright. She already knows how he feels.

 

She’s not quite ready yet, but Oliver’s willing to wait.

 

He lets out a long, deep breath, clutching the phone tightly to his ear as his eyes drift shut….

 

…and he falls asleep to the comforting sound of her breathing.

 

* * *

 

Oliver wakes a few hours later to the noise of his alarm going off somewhere nearby.

 

He shifts on the couch, groaning as his body protests against the awkward position he fell asleep in. He looks around for his phone, hoping to quiet it before the noise wakes William. He finds it on the floor next to him, and he quickly turns off the alarm. Then he lies back down on the couch, putting his arm over his eyes in an attempt to shield himself from the early morning light streaming in through the curtains.

 

With a sigh, he moves his arm and looks back at his phone, blinking wearily. His call with Felicity has been ended. He doesn’t remembering hanging up on her, so he assumes she must have disconnected the call after he fell asleep.

 

A tiny envelope shape on the bar along the top of his phone screen catches his eye.

 

Smiling, Oliver pulls the notification bar down and clicks on the symbol, opening his messages.

 

There’s one new text.

 

From Felicity.

 

It’s short, but sweet….

 

...and it fills him with hope.

 

_ Not tonight...but soon. I promise. _

 

**...the end...**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, reviews feed my soul.


End file.
